


love doesn’t come easy, especially when you’re loving me

by lostinthesounds



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bellarke, Chopped: The 100 Fanfic Challenge, F/M, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-04 10:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18341864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinthesounds/pseuds/lostinthesounds
Summary: Clarke Griffin, a medic from the tribe of Arkadia was on the run after the fall out of Mount Weather.After word spread of her title ofWanheda,the blame of the lives lost in the battle had been sprung on her.She doesn’t expect to run into Bellamy Blake, a warrior from Azgeda — who happens to be her ex lover. He learns of her issues and vows to help her stay safe. It makes sense, that she would be repeating the same day over and over again to make up for the time they spent apart.





	love doesn’t come easy, especially when you’re loving me

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a lovely trope challenge called, _Chopped: The 100 Fanfic Challenge_ on tumblr. 
> 
> Here are the rules:  
> 1\. Exes  
> 2.give up all your weapons” and that one person that spends the entire evening taking their weights worth out of their pockets  
> 3\. Lets just (kiss/hook up/whatever) to get it out of our system”  
> 4\. Groundhog day/time loop AU (You must go through three (3) time loops.)
> 
> This fic will stay anonymous until a few days from now, so stay tuned if you wanna see who wrote this <3 enjoy! Thank you for reading!

The sun beamed down on her skin, her legs have been aching for miles as she tries to navigate her way through the terrain. 

 

She had passed the entirety of Arkadia territory hours ago, yet she was plagued with the thoughts of being ambushed or killed without remorse. When she was home, she was usually alone with her thoughts as her mother was running the camp as Chancellor and she was the only doctor available. But now, it was so different. 

 

At least, she had her friends to accompany her on breaks or Raven’s teasing when she was sleep deprived and needed to stay awake to operate on an injury of careless teenagers. She had Monty to help her sort through plants and herbs, to make her smile when she was feeling sad about losing someone. 

 

She was _truly_ alone, she realized as she looks around with her vision blurred, dots  of black filling her pupils if she quickly turned her head to the side. She was dehydrated, recognizing the symptoms of her own body. With an empty stomach, blood stained hands that reminded her of death and the stench that came with removing the dead from their resting place. Sometimes, Clarke would look down at her hands: the color red hid behind her finger nails, the shakiness in her fingers, of being constantly afraid. 

 

 _She did what she had to do_. It didn’t stop her from feeling sick, or terrified for her life. After the events at Mount Weather, the tribes of Azgeda and Ice Nation had been following her people home on their journey. Kane and her mother, were able to distract the army before shoving a bag of necessities and a loaded rifle in her hands, and then was forced to leave. 

 

Everyone seemed to know but her— the power of her decisions, and it seemed like the more she made, the more pain she caused. Maybe it was for the best, she decided. If she wasn’t around the people she cared about, then she wouldn’t be able to hurt any of them. 

 

She wouldn't have a target on her back or a death sentence waiting for her, but as long as she stays cautious of the main lands, she would be okay. 

 

She walks further for as long as she possibly could, her feet dragging in the dirt and finally gives her body a rest. She slides the bag off her shoulders and it lands to the floor with a thud, and she rests against a tree. The tension in her muscles being released was enough to make her sigh, but she tries to adjust down to the floor before, and just in case anyone heard. 

 

Clarke has been on the run for a day, most likely twenty four hours already and she felt drained. Her throat was dry and she needed water desperately, but she hadn’t had enough to last more than a few hours. She had a couple of protein packs in the bottom of her bag, but she was sure that one of them had ripped open when she was running for her life the day before. The nerves creep back into her mind, and she closes her eyes to try and get a sense of peace: until it gets ripped away from her. 

 

Someone appears from the corner of her eye, and it startles her: “So, I hear you’ve got a new nickname Princess.” The voice mocks, teasing in its loud manner. There’s a weight that drops into her stomach, and Clarke is frozen in place. “Wanheda, was it?” The nickname dripping with mockery and definitely not pleasant to her senses. 

 

 _Oh my god_ , she repeats in her head. 

 

Her eyes open slowly, adjusting to the light as there’s a figure standing in front of her. The person was covered in animal fur, armor and a sword hung from his left shoulder. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, because it couldn’t possibly be _him_ , but as her vision starts to get clear — there’s a scar across his cheek. 

 

“Bellamy?” She croaks out, and he laughs in response. “Is that really you?” 

 

He crouched down, a hand placed on her leg and he squeezed. She jerks her leg to shake his hand off, because he shouldn’t be there; shouldn’t be in front of _her_. 

 

“I can’t believe this,” He replies, although his voice was softer than she ever remembered. “I thought I would never see you again, especially not after our treaty was broken in the spring.” 

 

“You can’t get rid of me that easy.” She clears her throat, and she closes her eyes again because it’s all too much. “The treaty wasn’t my fault, remember?.” She reminded him, and it was true. It may of been the reason they broke up, but she didn’t want any of that to happen. 

 

Clarke cared for him, no matter what any one else told her about Azgeda: he was one of the good guys. She’ll always believe it. 

 

“Well, I hate to break it to you,” He stands and his feet are heavy in the dirt as Clarke brought her knees closer to her chest. “There’s a lot of people that want you dead, and if I bring you back to Azgeda, they will kill _you_.” 

 

There’s chills all over her body at those words, and she opens her blue eyes to try and find his gaze — and he’s looking down at her with an adoration in her eyes that she hadn’t seen in ages. She doesn’t try and how scared she was with the realization, so she hugs her legs closer to her chest tighter. It reminds her of the comfort he once provided, and she relished in it. 

 

“What are you waiting for?” She asks softly, admitting defeat. She kicks the bag that landed next to her feet, and she continued. “Take me back to Roan, it’s what you’ve been told to do.” 

 

She thinks about it actually, if Bellamy was there with her when she gets executed in front of his people—maybe they’d go easier? Make it quick? It was something she wanted, a death that’s painless and fast. ( _However_ , knowing the extent of how many people want her dead, she doesn’t think it’ll be any sort of pleasant.) 

 

“I don’t want you to get killed, Clarke.” 

 

“Then, why are you here?” She questioned. “Did you follow me?” 

 

She couldnt believe it, at least not yet. He worked for the wrong side, the side that she wasn’t and could _never_ be on and she bites her lip hard in response. 

 

“It wasn’t hard to track you down, I simply just followed the footprints in the dirt that led me to travel West.” A smile growing on his lips, “The blonde hair helped me figure out who the person really was” 

 

 _To think she was happy to see him, it was a thought that was long gone_. 

 

“I don’t have the energy to bicker with you right now,” Clarke admits, her arms fall to her side in exhaustion. She could really use a warm bed, or a cup of cold water from the river — anything to make her feel alive. Her voice is raspy and cracks with every other word, “It’s hard for me to talk.” 

 

Bellamy extends a hand out, and she hesitates— leaving him to pout. “You’re so lucky that I know people around here, and that it was _me_ who found you.” 

 

She thinks back to their days in love, where all she thought about was the man with curly black hair and warm hugs that made sleep come easy. She thinks to the smile on his face: the way his dimple showed, or the way she could recognize the human side of Bellamy Blake under his war paint. She sees the man she loved, even now. 

 

“Are you sure you aren’t luring me to my death?” Clarke’s expression changes entirely, accepting his hand and pulling herself up into a standing position. She stumbles but his arm wraps around her waist, her heart stops. “I don’t want to die, and I don’t want _you_ to kill me either.” 

 

Bellamy looks fragile then, his heart torn open to a girl he loved before the drama happened, before war struck. 

 

His grip gets tighter, and her hands squeeze his forearms in appreciation. 

 

Clarke needed the reassurance, she needed to be held together. 

 

“I won’t hurt you,” He assured with a nod of his head, and his hand caresses her cheek. She flinched in response, “They might think you’re ruthless, but I don’t believe any of it.” 

 

“Why do you always see the good in me, Bellamy?” She asks, not wanting him to let go. _She just had to understand his motives_. Clarke was confused, with her brows furrowed together. Didn’t he know the rumors? “I killed those people in the Mountain, I don’t deserve to be saved.” 

 

He gets lost in her eyes; the way they are looking at eachother, with a desire to be together but held back by obvious circumstances and different goals in life. 

 

Her eyes were always so blue, it was his favorite thing about her. Bellamy slowly unwinds his arm, but ends up placing it over her shoulders and pulling her close to his chest as she falls limp against the side of his body. She’s tired, and feeling out of place in this cruel world. But, when she’s next to him; she fits perfectly under his arm. 

 

“Who we are and who we need to be to survive are very different things.” He says the mantra that kept her alive all this time, the words that he repeated in her ear late at night; when she was struggling to keep her people in unity when she first dropped from the sky in the dark of the night. He was there for every hardship, and the reminder makes him look down at the top of her head and frown. The memories kept playing,  “I believe in second chances, and you deserve one.” 

 

Bellamy leans down to pick up her bag and he slung it over his other shoulder that wasn’t occupied with holding Clarke upright, and they start to walk together at a pace that keeps her stable. 

 

He wasn’t trying to tease the girl earlier in the conversation, they were _lucky_ that he knew a welder that lived in a small community near Azgeda. Bellamy was happy to see Clarke, but not like this. 

 

Not when she was in pain and afraid, but he couldn’t do anything about it. _Clarke wasn’t his anymore_ , and that stung more than he could admit. 

* * *

 

Bellamy knocks on the door with vigor as he tries to fight the burn in his arms from holding Clarke, knocking more times than necessary. 

 

“Murphy,” He snaps with anger, “ _Damnit_ , I know you’re in there.” 

 

He turns to Clarke, her eye lids falling shut as she lets the exhaustion take over her body. She looked so fragile, and he wanted to protect her. 

 

She whispered, “Do you want me to let go? You could probably break the door open if you have both hands.” There was a smirk growing on her lips, and she nuzzled more into his side. Before he responds, he looks around the shed both ways with open eyes, _he had to stay on the look out_. They couldn’t get caught. 

 

When the coast was clear, he snickered down at her. “Unless you want to fall to the ground and sleep there for the night, I don’t suggest letting me do such a thing.” 

 

Plus, he liked— _really_ liked— the way she had curled into his body. It was a familiar feeling, distant in his memory because it was a position he loved to find himself in when he was with Clarke. 

 

“Murphy, I swear to _God_ —“ Bellamy yells again, through gritted teeth. He doesn’t get a chance to continue, as the door opens, geting _yanked_ open by a younger guy who doesn’t look frightened, but interested as to what was happening. 

 

“What a nice surprise,” Murphy chirped, hands clasped behind his back. “I thought you never wanted to see my _worthless_ face again, Blake.” 

 

“I only said that because you tried to kiss my sister the first time you met her,” Bellamy groaned, not wanting to think about that experience, and gestured his hand to Clarke beside him. “I have someone to take care of, so can we stay here? We need help.” He squints in the sunlight, there’s a bit of hope blooming in his chest. 

 

“She looks like she could pass out.” Murphy says and sighed in defeat when Bellamy glared. “How can she be dangerous?” 

 

“Will you just let us in?” Bellamy pleads and Murphy tries to hide his smile, grinning because for once, he was needed— by a man who claims to doesn’t need anyone. “I could explain all of that inside, _away_ from open and unknown territory.”

 

”Fine,” Murphy decided, and he lets the two walk into his small place that he calls home: a medium sized tent that he made Bellamy steal for him, connected to an old shed that had survived the death wave. It wasn’t much, but it was what made him feel comfortable with living on his own. “Go back into the shed, it’s empty and there’s a few blankets in there.” 

 

Bellamy sighed in relief, ushering the girl in his arms to follow him inside and when he gets her safely into the shed, into one of Murphy’s work chairs and cuddled into a few blankets — he feels like he could breathe again. 

 

He walks out to meet Murphy, glad to listen to his attempt at speaking low so that Clarke could sleep or get rest. 

 

“So, who’s the girl?” 

 

“An old friend,” Bellamy says, and he wasn’t wrong— “I found her a mile from here, she was at Mount Weather.” 

 

Murphy takes a seat from the corner of the room and offers Bellamy to sit, which he takes with gratitude. 

 

“She’s pretty, and she must’ve had a long journey before you found her.” 

 

 _The understatement of the century_. 

 

“There was an army going after her, prepared to cut off her head.” Bellamy says, but he can’t look the other man in the eyes because he couldn’t believe it himself either— that was _his_ Clarke, the one he had to leave— “I had to do something.” 

 

“You’ll do anything for her?” 

 

“Why are you asking me?,” Bellamy could feel his palms sweat, and it wasn’t the fur coat he was wearing or the anxiety of knowing where the conversation was doing. _Did Murphy have suspicions_? He didn’t have to wait long for an answer. 

 

“It’s not a big deal,” Murphy shrugs his shoulders, standing from his chair abruptly. “I just find it amusing that you didn’t have the heart to argue with Roan when your sister was banished for wanting to marry Lincoln? Yet, here you are.” He gets in Bellamy’s face, holding his chin and both of their jaws clenched with words they wouldn’t dare say aloud to eachother. “One of the best warriors in Azgeda, prepared to do anything for the _Commander of Death_. The woman who influences death, that’s who you’re willing to fight for.” 

 

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Bellamy bites back, his head pulls back to fight the hand on his chin. He wasn’t weak for wanting to protect Clarke, or for wanting to fix her problems. “I didn’t come here with _her_ , to fight with you.” 

 

“I’m just stating facts.” Murphy surrenders his hands in the air, letting his gaze meet the angered and dangerous stare of the warrior in front of him. A man who could break him, who could stab him with his sword in the right places and wouldn’t miss his shot. “I don’t want the girl to get hurt, even with the shit she’s done to people. All I’m saying is that your priorities aren’t in the right place.” 

 

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” 

 

“Oh, _really_?” Murphy scoffed, “You're the one who’s lying to himself if you think I don’t see how important she is to you.” He paused, and took a long breath of frustration. “An old friend, _my ass_. It’s going to hurt you in the end, to be in love with a girl like her.” 

 

“I’m not—“ _in love_. Bellamy stands up and his chair creaks, and he stares intensely at the man in front of him. 

 

“Shut up,” Murphy demands, his back turned. “I’m offering you my place so that _mighty_ Wanheda can rest, so you’ll listen when I tell you that she’s the girl you love.” 

 

Bellamy swallows thickly, “Fine.” 

 

“Is that it?” Murphy turns around slowly but with a smirk growing on his face. He was amused, “There’s no fighting me on that?” 

 

“She needs this,” Bellamy argued with narrowed eyes, “She needs _me_ and I won’t let her die because of some folklore that puts a red target on her back.” 

 

The tension dissolves, and Murphy finds himself smirking. He chuckled at the man’s serious tone, “It’s also the stuff that your people believe in.” 

 

“Be quiet,” Bellamy snaps lightly, it was more of a tease and not meant to be taken harshly as he manages to fight a grin— “And to think I could miss you.” He takes his seat again, leaning back in the chair. 

 

Somehow, the bickering and anger that subsided between them was comforting. It could always switch from being at eachother’s necks, to cracking jokes over something that shouldn’t be funny. That was _Murphy_. 

 

“The feelings mutual.” He replies as he took his respective seat again. “What’s her name?” 

 

“You know it already,” Bellamy says, “The same name that you believe belongs to a girl like her.” He reminds him, and frowns. 

 

“Don’t be a dick.” Murphy points out, a finger pointed in his friend’s direction. “I asked for her _real_ name.” 

 

Bellamy hesitated, her name felt strangely intimate and personal to him. Especially with the harsh opinions of the people around him constantly, he felt like the only person who could say her real name without being scorned or looked upon. He remembered when people used to ask, or stare curiously at a girl with blonde hair— Azgeda has rare history of females born that look like Clarke, so it definitely caused a lot of head turns. He would bring her to his territory often, but only when she had items to trade off because he didn’t want to seem suspicious. He caught feelings fast, and nobody had to know, nobody _needed_ to know the way his heart beat for a single girl.  It was his little secret, Clarke was the reason. 

 

“ _Clarke,_ ” He says softly, shaking his head to regain focus. “Her real name is Clarke Griffin, a medic who had to leave her camp in Arkadia.” 

 

“You think she’s innocent?” 

 

“None of us are.” Bellamy said. He looks to the corner of the room, his fur coat and sword lay on top of the other and he takes a breath. “She does what she needs to do to protect her people, just like any of us would do for ours.” He decides to add on, emotion laced through his words. “She deserves this world more than anyone.” Bellamy says with longing, he remembered that she’s sleeping in the next room and— “She deserves someone better than _me_.” 

 

“I know what I said earlier, about her being dangerous and bad for a person like you,” Murphy paused, nervously raking a hand through his hair. He leans forward with his hands on his knees and he looks at Bellamy. They met gazes and the other man looked so lost, hurt with the pain he caused others. “But, I don’t think you know how much she cares about you, either.” 

 

“You’ve only met her today.” 

 

“I saw the way she clung to you, I saw the way she didn’t want to let go of you like you were going to _leave_. She’s sleeping in the other room because she trusts you to keep her safe, and that’s special. _She thinks you’re special_ , you idiot.” 

 

Bellamy ducks his head because maybe it was true, maybe he was an idiot who didn’t know how to love. “I’m the one who broke her heart.” 

 

Murphy laughs after a few seconds pass and he says, “I knew it!” He sighs when Bellamy doesn’t say anything because his thoughts are drowning him out, “Like I said, she cares about you.” 

 

“What can I _even_ do?” Bellamy gestured with his hands, his voice rough. “How can I fix this? Fix _her_? I want to do right and she means so much to me.” 

 

“See, there’s this thing,” Murphy offered with a serious tone. “It’s called,  _wait for it_ , talking to a woman and telling her how you feel.” 

 

“If you weren’t right,” Bellamy’s jaw clenched hard, his teeth grinding. “I would’ve threatened you with my sword.” 

 

“It’s in the corner.” Murphy pouts, then smiled deviously. That _little_ — “Therefore I have the advantage if you were to try.” 

 

“You are _so_ —“ 

 

“Nice?” Murphy cuts him off, and Bellamy forced himself to stay quiet. “Finally, a thank you for my hospitality.” 

 

“Yeah, _thanks_.” Bellamy crosses his arms in fake annoyance, knowing that Murphy had already done so much for him. There was no knowing of what happened next, but he was safe for right now. He was safe with Clarke, and that was all that mattered to him. 

* * * 

“Hey,” Bellamy whispered, ignoring the tug at his heart strings when Clarke pulled the blanket further up her arms so that she stayed covered. She had to be fully clothed right? “You’re awake.” 

 

Her voice is lazy, dragging out her words and slow. “Unfortunately, the answer is yes.” 

 

“Murphy won’t give up his bed,” Bellamy decides to say, keeping his focus straight ahead on the thin coat of plaster on the walls. He hopes that she doesn’t ask why, because the only reason why he was bringing up Murphy was to avoid the tension that was building. He lets his back hit the wall, and he adjusts to get comfortable— it took him a while. “Was the floor alright?” 

 

“Yeah, it was.” Clarke says, “It was better than sleeping outside.” 

 

“You live in a camp, you _literally_ sleep outside everyday.” 

 

It makes her laugh, and Bellamy just has to look at her. The bags under her eyes were still visible, and her forehead had a deep crease in the middle that showed him how much she was thinking. It was a habit he picked up on when they were together; and it became easy to figure out when Clarke needed to concentrate or stay focused. She thought about every little and last detail: making sure her plans were organized, every map detailed and colored. He wasn’t even sure if she knew what came next after this, _would she run away_? 

 

Does she stay _on_ the run? Would she belong with a clan? One last question rang through his brain, it made his head pound with intensity: would she want to stay with him? 

 

This girl was a growing headache, and it made his mind want to explode— but he wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s a want that grows inside his chest everytime she speaks; the way she handles her problems, the way she gets to the point and doesn’t take aggression from anyone. He desires to be like that, to be held with such accountability that his people could trust him with every fiber of their beings. Bellamy wants _that_ type of trust with Clarke, and he could rebuild it if only he had the courage to talk about his feelings. 

 

She nudges him with her elbow, “If it wasn’t for you or Murphy, I would’ve been forced to walk until my legs gave out or find somewhere that wasn’t near any clan territory. That’s already tough because it’s all we know.” 

 

He didn’t know if it was because she was still waking up from her sleep, but her voice was shaky towards the end of her sentence. Bellamy doesn’t let it go unnoticed, so he tries his best to reassure her. 

 

“I’m sure you would’ve figured something out.” He says with a small smile, and her body _just_ happens to inch closer. 

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure of my abilities to survive on my own,” Clarke sighs, she rubs at her face. “I have no idea what I’m doing half the time.” 

 

His brows furrowed tightly, “I’ve seen the way you handle your camp, people follow you, Clarke. They look at you for guidance and light and they trust you.” 

 

Clarke looks up at him, and Bellamy could feel his body react almost instantly. 

 

His hands tingle with the urge to touch her— to graze his fingertips along her jaw and bring her closer, his chest feels tight with re-emerging emotions that he shoved deep inside into his heart when they broke up, when _he_ broke them up all that time ago, and his head fogs with any thoughts that might’ve been spoken into words. She was looking at him like he had hung the moon in the sky, with her blue eyes that were big and blue with wonder; he would classify it as something like _adoration_ _,_ and she frowns _._

 

“They do it against their will.” Clarke says, “I’m trying my best and sometimes it’s not enough for them.” 

 

“That’s not true,” Bellamy shakes his head and forces their gaze to stay locked, to stay as one. “They follow you because you inspire them.” 

 

“Inspire them?” Clarke repeats with narrowed eyes, clearly not believing him that makes him wince. “There’s two armies trying to find me because I had to fend for myself and kill over two hundred people, Bellamy. I don’t think my people want to follow a murderer, especially when I’m the one that’s going to get them all killed.” 

 

Her shoulder’s slouch, and she keeps her breathing steady with slow patterns that she makes for herself. Bellamy knows what he could do in these situations because he’s helped her before, she was stressed and nervous; but he usually helped her in ways that two people who aren’t romantically involved don’t do. He froze in place, as Clarke peels the blanket off of her body and sets it to the side because the heat was getting too much to handle— Bellamy could feel it too, but for an entirely different reason. 

 

“They left you to make that choice.” He decides to say, watching as her legs get pulled to her chest and she holds on. 

 

Both of Clarke’s arms are tightly wrapped around her knees, and he remembered when he found out that morning. She had looked so tired, so drained of hope and life, like a girl waiting for someone for jump out and kill her just to get it over with. 

 

Bellamy says it again, “ _They left you to make that choice_.” 

 

Her head sits on top of her knees, as she looks deep in thought. Clarke swallows thickly, fighting back the tears. “Just like how you left me, right?” 

 

It was such a low blow. To pull their relationship into the equation, when the tension seperated them like a curtain. 

 

Bellamy gasps, taking a sharp intake of breath. His heart is beating rapidly as she stares ahead, and won’t even look at him when she says it. 

 

“Clarke,” He whispered in demand. “Don’t make it about us, please.” 

 

“Why not?” She snaps, “I was in love with you, Bellamy. You broke my heart and you left, it should’ve been easy for me to get over you.” 

 

“I was just trying to help you, trying to help you realize that you matter to your people!” He bites back, and he’s so tired of arguing already. He already missed her smile and he’s met with only a frown and trembling lips because neither of them want to show vulnerability. “I didn’t bring up how I left you.” 

 

“ _You left me_.” Clarke repeats with a cracked voice, and she sounds so reminiscent of the bad times— like she’s replayed that scene a thousand times in her head, getting her heart broken over and over and _over_. “You left when I was struggling to lead my people, and I needed you.” She paused. In a low voice she finishes, “I needed you to help me through times where I was getting over losing Finn, and you broke up with me” 

 

“So that’s my fault?” Bellamy moves further to the side, away from her so that they could get some space. Even when all he’s been wanting for these last few months is nothing inbetween them, all he wanted was to be with her; to have no space to keep them apart. “I’m a rebound for Finn?” 

 

He remembered when she spoke about him for the first time. Finn had been described as a man with charm, someone who’s smile could light up a room and make someone— _Clarke_ — feel like the Earth wasn’t going to crumble at her feet. (It wasn’t until his true girlfriend came down from Space, was when Clarke had lost that sense of comfort and faith in love.) 

 

He was the one to revive it, and then crush it with his loyalty to his clan. It felt like the worst decision he’s ever made in his life, because he lost her that day. 

 

He loves her. Bellamy _wants_ to love her. 

 

“I never said that,” Clarke tries to backtrack, “I didn’t know what love was like, _truly_ like, until I met you.” 

 

“ _Don’t_ say that.” Bellamy finds himself pleading, his hands clenched into fists and he looks at Clarke. There’s a flash of confusion written on her face, and she stares back. “Clarke, please.” 

 

“Why not?” She asks. “It’s the truth, I still need you, Bell—“

 

He starts to scoot closer to her body again, and he has no idea what he’s doing. He thinks back to learning about the idea of _mind over body_ , that the brain could help a fighter get out of any situation, but Bellamy doesn’t want to fight right now. He doesn’t even want to get away from her, and that’s when he realizes that he’s letting his body _have_ a mind of its own. 

 

When he’s back where he originally was sat next to her, his hand reaches up to cup her cheek and the bizarre thing is that she lets him do it. Bellamy turns her head to face him, and he takes a deep breath as he admires all her features again. It felt like it’s been too long, and he couldn’t spot any differences in the way her nose crinkles when she tries to keep still, or the light freckles on her cheeks when he looks hard enough. Her eyes are still piercing with the color of the ocean, and it’s what he pictures everytime he’s traveling on water. _He sees her_. 

 

“I don’t want you to tell me how much you miss me,” Bellamy whispered. It hurts him too, “It’s going to make me want to kiss you again and we aren’t dating anymore.” 

 

“Tell me why.” She responded, and her hand is shaking as it’s placed on the hand that’s holding her face. “Why can’t you be with me.” 

 

“I couldn’t do that to you.” 

 

“Do what?” She said, and she bites her tongue to keep from begging for an answer. 

 

“Roan didn’t want me to get involved with anyone from your camp, he thought it wouldn’t be professional if one of his best warriors got invested with a girl who belongs to a different clan.” Bellamy’s thumb caresses her soft skin, “He didn’t want my priorities to get mixed up.” 

 

“You didn’t listen,” He could feel the warmth of the blush on her cheeks, and it causes them both to smile. “You talked to me anyways.” 

 

“He was right, like he always is.” Bellamy licks his lips and nods his head, “I ended up falling for someone from the sky because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut for more than five minutes and she talks too much.” 

 

“ _Hey_ ,” She warned him, but as her mouth got closer to meeting Bellamy’s she stops— what the hell was she doing right now? She hesitates, “Are you gonna kiss me?” 

 

“It seemed like you were leaning into me first.” 

 

“Fine, are _we_ going to kiss?” She asks again. 

 

“Just to get it over with,” Bellamy assured, “Unless you don’t—“

 

“No, I’m good.” She replied as she puts a hand on his shoulder. Nerves erupt in her chest because, of course she wanted to kiss him and has been waiting for this moment since they broke up. “It’s just to get it over with, since we both have unresolved feelings for eachother, right?”

 

(Clarke needed him to agree, she couldn’t keep lying to herself like this.)

 

“Agreed.” He nods, and doesn’t waste another second. 

 

Their lips met after months of being apart, and it made her heart ache inside her chest. He was gentle with pressure, and their breaths were mixed together. Soon enough, both of his hands were cupping her face and bringing her closer to his body. Bellamy was trying to put every ounce of regret into passion and showing her how much he didn’t want to let go, not then and not now. Clarke’s arms wrapped around his neck, to give herself an advantage with height. 

 

When they pulled away for air, she expected him to pull away and walk out to find Murphy and leave her flustered and wanting more— but as soon as she felt she could breathe normally, their lips had met again and he was becoming more frenzied and attentive to what she wanted from him. He was listening to her soft pleas for more, and how her breathing would hitch if and when his hand curled in the hollow of her neck. If he didn’t want to stop kissing her, who was she to pull away and rob them both of a moment they want to share together? She was a girl in love, kissing someone who said he had to leave her behind. Clarke knows that it’s careless and they might regret it in the future, but for a short period of time—it felt good to know that he was once and _still_ in love with her. 

* * *

 

 

“Wanheda, was it?” Bellamy asks with his hand rubbing at his chin, _the bastard_. He walks closer, and Clarke could almost feel the hatred rise in her chest. 

 

(There’s a weird taste in her mouth, and Clarke has no idea what to do. She’s been in this situation before, but she doesn’t feel the same. Wasn’t she just with Bellamy?) 

 

She looks up to see the bright sun and the vibrant green that fills the world with color, and she can’t shake off the feeling of something being strange. _She’s been in this situation already_. 

 

It doesn’t take long for her to realize that a few feet away, Bellamy was walking towards her—Clarke stood with her pistol aimed (but not loaded, because even if she hates him— she won’t shoot him because it draws attention.) at his chest. “That’s not my name.” She tells him. 

 

“You’re right,” He said. “But, if I call you Princess, that’s not a good nickname either?” 

 

“It’s been months since I’ve heard that.” 

 

“I was the one who called you that, so I’m glad that no one took it.” Bellamy says, and he stops walking. He didn’t seem to care about the way he was speaking to her; a girl who he ended a relationship with, someone who is still in love with him—and it made Clarke stare at him in anticipation. “You could drop your weapon now.” 

 

“Why would I do that?” She asks. “You’re the Azgeda warrior here, shouldn’t you know who I am to your people?” She doesn’t drop the gun, but lowers it a fraction. 

 

He looks at her with a soft gaze, and he has to know how dangerous she is to him. With the way he’s staring at her with glossy eyes, trying to keep his true thoughts to himself. _He didn’t want to stand up for her, even with nobody around._  For a second she could see Bellamy, the _real_ version of him. He keeps a serious tone, even as the cracks shine through. “I have the power to turn you in right now, but I don’t want you to die.” 

 

The reality of _this_ situation hits her in the face like a slap, and she shakes her head back and forth. “You left me all those months ago, you broke my heart. How do you expect me to trust you?” _But I do trust you, I’ll always trust you_. 

 

“I never wanted to leave you.” He says. 

 

She wants to believe it, but she can’t. 

 

“You still did it, and I can’t forgive you for that.” Clarke said, even if her heart tears apart just thinking about why she won’t— she doesn’t have control over how she truly feels. “Not right now.” 

 

“I could help you.” He offered, yet still keeps his distance. “You don’t need to do this alone.”

 

“Help me?” She repeats in a shocked tone of voice, lowering her gun. “After all that we’ve been through?”

 

Clarke shakes her head. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, was he forgetting what he had put her through? Did he forget how he was the to break up with her? How Bellamy had manipulated her feelings only to get rid of her when he couldn’t handle it. _When he couldn’t handle his own feelings towards her_.  

 

The trees whistled with the wind, the sun beaming down on them both: her shirt sticking to her back with sweat, her eyes are filling with tears because of squinting to see past a few feet in front of her, and maybe—mostly, if she was honest— they were the result of speaking to Bellamy. 

 

Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest because she was on the run for a full day, she was tired and hungry; in search of water and a safe place. If her own people threw her away to protect themselves, then Bellamy would do the same. _Clarke was sure of it_. She could last a bit longer, she could survive this conversation and whirlwind of events just a little longer. She was strong, she knew that. 

 

“Clarke, it’s dangerous around here and we both know that.” Bellamy explained, but his body was acting differently. He stayed calm as he reached behind his back to undo the clasps on his sleeve to take something out. She held her breath and kept her shaky hands on her trigger even when she knows that she would never shoot at him, and she takes a step forward. 

 

It was a set of knifes, they were for combat and she counted five off the top of her head. They were strapped to his coat, and she exhaled. 

 

“Are you going to kill me now?” She says with wide eyes, “That was your plan all along, you’re going to kill me.” 

 

“When I said that I wasn’t going to hurt you, I meant it.” He snaps, his focus entirely on taking the set of knives in his hands with caution. Bellamy was right with his words, just like how he had told Clarke that he shouldn’t be around a girl like herself: one that was so passionate and selfless. It broke her heart to hear those words, “So I’m giving these up.” 

 

“You’re giving me your _knives_?” Her face a mix of shock and awe, she remembered the rare occurrences of learning how to knife throw with Bellamy behind her, guiding her movements but it felt like so long ago. It was a time in her life that was filled with hope, but now was filled with fear and anxiety. “Don’t you need to be properly equipped at all times? Wouldn’t Roan—“ 

 

She gets cut off with a harsh tone, “I don’t care, I’m giving them to you.” 

 

“But why?” She just has to ask him. 

 

(This isn’t what happened the day before, yet he seemed to show more compassion faster than before. He knew what to do to help her, without being by her side.

 

Clarke didn’t know which hurt more, the realization of knowing he wanted to help or why she wouldn’t let him if she was standing and not slumped against a tree stump.) 

 

Bellamy throws the set of knives at Clarke’s feet, and they land with a thump in the grass. Her gaze is so locked on what just happened, that she doesnt notice when Bellamy starts to do something else. She reaches down to pick up the knives with awe on her face and she clutches them tightly, for a sudden reason: she was appreciative. 

 

“If you’re giving me your knives,” She starts to say, hesitating with her gaze set on keeping the knives close to her chest. “Is there anything else you can give?” 

 

“Ask me,” He said. “Ask me what you really want from me, because I know you want more weapons.” He had a smirk growing on his face,  _God, he read her like a book and it wasn’t fair_. He could already tell how hard she had held onto his knives in that moment, like it was the one thing she had craved. She had her burst of hope for the first time. 

 

“If you want to help me,” Clarke licks her lips to make sure her words are clear and determined, “Give up your weapons, and leave.” Was he really going to listen to her?

 

Bellamy has a familiar smirk on his face and he nods his head, “Alright, wasn’t that easy?” 

 

“ _Wait_.” Clarke asks with confusion. She was lost in the easiness of the entire situation, “You’re saying yes?” 

 

“If you won’t let me help you find somewhere safe to hide, then consider this my helping hand.” Bellamy says, and then reaches for his sword. It was hooked in two places; his belt loop and then his shoulder pad. He quickly opens the clasp and reveals his sword, only to set it down on the ground. “You better take good care of that, I’ll be finding you when this boils over.” 

 

He didn’t sound cold, but sincere. 

 

“I’ll most likely be dead.” Clarke finds the courage to admit, but kneels down to pick up the sword that was now, a foot away from her reach. “Thank you for giving me this, Bellamy.” As she gestured to the knives in her hand, and the sword in the other. 

 

He smiles, “Remember what I taught you before, will you?” Bellamy shuffled closer to Clarke, until he was leveled with her gaze. He kneeled as well, but only to grab her hand to help her stand. “You’ll do the right _and_ smart thing, and I’ll find you someday to get my stuff back.” 

 

His eyes bore into her’s, and Clarke was at a loss for words. Bellamy had faith in her, and somehow that’s all she would ever need to thrive. 

 

“What if I give up?” She asks, voice small like a child and it’s the reason why she doesn’t let go of his hand. It was her biggest fear, to lose everything and be alive to witness the aftermath—what if this was the last time she would see him? 

 

“You won’t.” Bellamy nods his head and he leans in closer, squeezing her hand in reassurance. _She needs that_ , “My people want to kill a legend, not a girl. I’ll try my best to keep an eye for you, I won’t let them kill _you_.” 

 

Clarke finds the strength to pull away from the warmth radiating off his body and clears her throat, “I’ll find somewhere to stay for the night, and go from there.” She doesn’t think too much about the way he froze in place, of how he didn’t move when she did. It would hurt too much, she thinks. 

 

“There’s a welder that I know to the East of here, he’ll let you stay if you tell him that you’re a friend of mine.” Bellamy gestured in the direction that she needed to travel, “Just in case if you need more time to figure something out.” 

 

For a split second, she wants to beg him to come with her— but as her heart screams yes, her head screams no. 

 

She swallows her emotions, her dying thoughts of forever with a man who didn’t love her anymore. 

 

“Thank you, for everything.” She finally says in reply. The bag on her shoulders felt heavy, the weight bringing her back to reality— and she sighs. 

 

“I’ll find you again,” Bellamy promised and started to back away, “Stay safe out here.” He pleads, and then he starts to run in the opposite direction. 

 

He would be forced to say that he didn't see Wanheda in the forest, a few miles from Azgeda territory. He would be forced to lie and say that he didn’t see the girl that everyone was looking for, _that he didn’t see Clarke_. 

 

There’s a ache that fills the both of them for a long time, even when Bellamy safely makes it back home. Even when Clarke meets with the welder to stay for the night, deciding to listen to Bellamy’s words of encouragement— she has to fight now. It was the only way. 

 

She decides that she favored the day before, much greater than the outcome of that morning. Nothing felt better than holding the man she loved in her arms and feeling love that she was robbed from, and it was ripped away. Clarke just wants this day to end, and luckily it did. 

 

* * *

 

 

The day started off the same as the last two, and Clarke was breathing heavy against the tree stump. It wasn’t because she was exhausted or dehydrated although she  _still_ felt those symptoms like before,  but it was because she knew exactly what was happening. 

 

Her mind was spinning in circles, and she felt like she could be sick. She looks down to the bag that was just slung on her shoulders, now thrown to the ground with careless action and recklessness. 

 

It was just like before, the wind blowing against her face to relieve the heat that takes over her body; yet she could still feel herself engulfed with heat and tension all over. 

 

“So I hear you have a new nickname going around, Princess.” She recognizes his voice right away, this time filled with curiosity. “Wanheda, was it?” 

 

“Can you help me?” She doesn’t bother to listen to the antics, the games or the teasing; she needs him to listen. There’s something that changes on Bellamy’s face, and his forehead creases down the middle when he walks closer. He’s more urgent than before, but she continued to speak as she adjusts against the tree. It was the exhaustion taking over, her eyes drooping with invisible weights to take her away from the world. “I don’t want to die, _please_ don’t take me away.” 

 

“Clarke,” Bellamy says, and suddenly he’s right next to her. He was kneeling by her side, his hand clutched on her leg to let his presence be known. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.” There was no hidden motives in his voice, he was being honest with her. 

 

“They’re trying to find me.” She said with a rough voice, “Azgeda and various clans, they’re trying to kill me. They keep calling me Wanheda for what happened at the Mountain,” Her words start to drag out, and she’s getting lazier to speak as the seconds pass. The will to survive was thinning, and she didn’t want to give up when she could get help from someone she knew, someone who understood the motives of the people trying to catch her. “Bellamy, _please_ —“

 

“Yeah I know everything, Princess.” He says with gritted teeth, “I know where we can go to help you okay? But you have to stay with me.” 

 

Clarke nods as best she could, trying to open her eyes fully just to get a look at him. She wanted to see his black curls and feel his skin, or run her hands along the animal fur that adorned his sides. She just wanted to see everything that he was, but she couldn’t. It stung her heart, but she shakes it off as Bellamy starts to panic beside her. 

 

“I’ll be okay.” What she really wants to say is, _You’ll always be the one to make sure I’m breathing, that I’m alive_. But she couldn’t, not this early into another day of repetitive moments with him. “I don’t know how far I’ll make it, but I trust you.”

 

“You trust me?” He says, his head looks down at her with wide eyes and he swallows hard. “After what I’ve done to you?” 

 

She could see the regret on his face, like he was replaying every single thing he had done to make her feel angry. She thinks of the break up, of the endless tears that followed, of the way she wished to be with him even when he was pushing her away. 

 

“I trusted you then,” She says, her voice low and almost nonexistent. Just like her hate for him, it was nothing. “I trust you right now to do what’s best for the both of us, and I know you’ll help me.” 

 

Bellamy wraps an arm around her shoulders, and she gets the idea when he starts to pull them both up into a standing position. He was quiet, but she knew it was because of his emotions being at a high. 

 

When he grabs her bag and tosses it over his shoulder to hook his fingers on the strap, it was to keep Clarke as close to him as possible. She smiled at this, and she lets herself give into her desires and wants. She wants to be held by him, so she nuzzles deeper into the scent on his clothes. 

 

“I want to say more, I have so many questions,” Clarke says, as they start to walk towards the direction of the welder’s house. “But, all I could say is thank you for being there for me and keeping me alive right now.” 

 

It’s the softest tone of voice that she’s ever heard from Bellamy, and it makes her heart melt. 

 

“I’ve got you always,” He said. There’s no hesitation, and it makes her eyes well up with tears. “I’ve never stopped believing in you, and I want you to know that I’ve never cared about someone the way I feel about you.” 

 

“We should talk later,” She amused the idea and expected a disagreement, but he nods in response. 

 

“Let’s just get to where we need to go and I’m all yours.” He sighs, but just for a second— his head rests on top of her’s and he takes a long intake of breath. “How does that sound?” 

 

“Okay.” She places a hand over his chest, over his heart beating and she takes a breath too. It feels like she could finally breathe in the air around her, like it won’t consume her like before. “Let’s go.” 

 

Her eyes drop to a close, before she realizes how she got to Murphy’s tent and it seems like everything goes wrong after that. 

 

* * * 

They had been staying at Murphy’s shed for two days, before chaos erupted everywhere. 

 

Clarke had met Octavia, Bellamy’s younger sister when she had arrived to make sure that everything was okay. It seemed like news traveled fast, because Octavia had talked with her brother all night to come up with a solution to keep her safe. It turned out that his younger sister wasn’t far from Azgeda territory since she was traveling with Lincoln to gain supplies for a trip further west into unknown territory, and she knew that Bellamy would be helping Clarke because she was someone in need of saving. 

 

Now, Clarke was trying her best to gather her belongings into her bag as quickly as possible— trying not to let the panic run through her veins like wildfire because something had gone terribly wrong. The Azgeda army had been camping outside of Murphy’s settlement and finally made their presence known to the people inside, and they were close to busting down any type of escape. 

 

 _She was going to die_. She was convinced at this point, as the tears fell freely down her cheeks and collar of her shirt. 

 

“Clarke!” Octavia called out, and her footsteps were loud as they walked towards her. “We need to go now, Lincoln is waiting for me by the water. If you want to get out of here _alive_ , you have to come with me.” 

 

This was it, this was her last chance to see Bellamy.

 

She wipes at her face, and nods. As she closes the zipper to her bag, she pulls the gun from her front pocket and holds it in her hand. Would she have to kill more people to survive? It was never ending, the fight to stay alive. 

 

Bellamy walks towards her slowly, and she instantly reaches for him. She wraps her arms tightly around his torso with her eyes painfully shut as she starts to cry even more, this couldn’t be happening again. _Not to her_. She couldn’t lose him again, she would never be able to live with herself. 

 

“Hey, you’ll be okay.” He assured, pulling her away to cup her face in his hands. 

 

“They’re gonna kill me, Bellamy.” She starts to ramble, letting the fear consume her. “I’m going to die and I won’t be able to see you again, _oh my_ —“ She gasps for air, not getting enough of it. 

 

“I’ll find you, like I always do.” He promises, and she wants to hold onto his word for as long as she can. For a girl like her, life isn’t promised or guaranteed to be good all of the time—but when Clarke is with Bellamy, all she could feel is joy and happiness. She regrets so much then, of how she won’t be able to say the words that she’s dying to say. 

 

“You aren’t coming with us?” Her face loses color, turns pale and she could feel her heart drop to her feet. 

 

“Those are my people, Clarke.” Bellamy says in defeat, and although his brown eyes are filling with tears, he doesn’t let them fall. Unlike her, where she can’t keep herself composed for more than a second. “You mean so much to me, you know that?” He says to her, and he waits for an answer— but he should know already. 

 

“I love you,” Clarke responds instead, and her hands grab at Bellamy’s to squeeze as tightly as she could. This could be the last time she would get to hold him, she won’t waste it. “I never stopped, and I hope you feel the same.” 

 

Bellamy nods his head frantically and pulls her close, and their lips meet with sweet kisses and she lets herself get taken away into her dreams. The dream that became a reality a few days ago when they kissed against a wall, and the dream that’ll follow the same night when she can’t hold him. 

 

“You have to go,” He pulls away fast and keeps their gaze locked, He was trying to convince them both it was right thing to do. “I’ll distract them, but you have to leave now.” 

 

Clarke whispered, “I’ll see you again?” 

 

He pecks her lips one last time, and pulls her to his chest and hugs tight. It’s a place she never wants to leave, a place where she feels the most safe. 

 

“When I see you next,” Bellamy says with a serious tone, although his voice cracks as he thinks of the future. “I’m not leaving you ever again.” 

 

She nods and finds the sudden joy in her heart to smile up at him, because she could hold him accountable. 

 

Octavia come into the room, “We have to go, it’s now or never.” 

 

Clarke squeezes his hand, and grabs her bag and clutches the gun to her chest to make up for the comfort that Bellamy could only bring—and she runs after Octavia, and out of a back door and she doesn’t look back.

 

Clarke was going to find her way back to Bellamy, and they would be together again. As much as she hated the day before, or loved the first version, she didn’t want to repeat this one. It was a promise of longing, of something like the feeling of forever, that she wasn’t willing to give up. 

 

She’s had experience of loving so much, usually having it backfire the other person into the grave—but this time, she didn’t lose anyone, she would only  _gain_ a person who wants to love her. Who knows every flaw and mistake she’s ever made, and she knows him all the same; and now she could believe him when he says he wouldn’t leave when he returns. Clarke won’t be running away from a person like that, like Bellamy, anytime soon. 


End file.
